


Keep Lying

by Corra_Lynne



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Anonymous Sex, Character Death, Ghost Eddie, Hallucinations, Kind of Rough Sex, M/M, dead Eddie, what are tags, why am i so bad at tagging, will add more tags later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 15:00:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21199574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corra_Lynne/pseuds/Corra_Lynne
Summary: Richie can't cope after Eddie dies. He does the only thing he thinks will help.





	Keep Lying

**Author's Note:**

> I had too much fun writing this. I love making people suffer with angst (I see you watching this FBI person).
> 
> I did a Twitter poll because I couldn't figure out if I wanted Richie to die by accident or by (trigger warning) suicide. Either way, Richie was going to do. But A won, and A was Richie dies in an accident. Enjoy~!

He hasn’t been able to sleep. Every time Richie closed his eyes he saw Eddie’s glossed over eyes. He relived the last few days he had with him, even if they were terrifying days. It was like they were kids again making mom jokes, telling each other to fuck off and making fun of Eddie’s boring ass job. Richie never realized how much he missed him until the Chinese restaurant.

Hugging his body after defeating Pennywise and feeling his body grow colder as the cavern fell to rubble around them. He couldn’t leave Eddie there, but the others knew they wouldn’t be able to carry their friend out. Richie could’ve carried him out or at least stayed with him. Leaving Derry made him forget how much he loved Eddie.

Fuck he wished he could forget again. All the memories were back and so were the feelings. Feelings he couldn’t act on anymore because Eddie was gone. Why didn’t he follow Eddie after they graduated college? He could’ve been a comic anywhere, but he didn’t want to admit Eddie would be making the big bucks. Fuck his stupid pride.

When he returned homes nothing felt right. Like something was missing and when he turned his head to face the side of his bed it was empty. Days after he imagined Eddie was sleeping on the unused side. Dark stubble on his face, not that that fucker could even grow facial hair. But his hair would be a mess and Richie would want to mess it up even more. He glanced over his shoulder to check the time on his alarm clock that survived the 80’s. It was late, but not in the morning. No sleep without the help of meds.

He returned to his first position and felt his heart drop to his stomach. Eddie was still there except he was bleeding from the wound from his face and chest. He was ghostly pale and his eyes were soulless, but they were gaping at him.

“Fuck me.”

Richie left his house and drove to the nearest seedy bar. There were practically no lights on, old rock music played from the beat-up jukebox. People were playing pool while smoking in the back. Throwing back shots every time someone on the opposite end made it in a pocket. Some men were drinking alone or overly drunk sharing their entire life story with the bartender. Richie could only imagine how gross the bathroom was and nothing could make him happier.

He was enjoying his third glass when a man sat a chair away from him. Richie did a double-take thinking he was witnessing Eddie ordering an apple martini. But it wasn’t him. It was just a guy with his same build, height, and stupid hairstyle. Even his facial structure and the shape of his eyes were the same.

Falling into a conversation with the bar guy was easy. Way too easy. It was familiar. Like Eddie was physically here and they were playing a pick-up game and Richie knew he was going to bring him home and fuck him until the sun rose and long after. He was half right. Getting the stranger in the bathroom to suck his dick until he pulled the bar guy off to fuck him against the graffiti bathroom stall. 

For the first time in a month the hole in his heart was filled and he was happy. Fucking a stranger in a disgusting bathroom wasn’t the smartest thing, but it reminded Richie all the times they skipped class to make-out and blow each other in the boy’s restroom no one used. If it numbed his heart for a little while then it was worth it. God, he wanted to do it again and again until his legs caved.

Before his bathroom fuck could leave, Richie grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him in. His lips were close to the stranger's ear, the position caused the stranger to blush and place his hands on Richie’s surprisingly broad chest.

“Wanna get a room?” Richie already knew the answer, but he wasn’t about to bring a stranger back to his place. He didn’t want this Eddie to get attached when he stumbled into his lavish apartment.

A cheap hotel room later and Richie was balls deep in his company. He wasn’t going to ask him his name. Richie didn’t want to get attached either. So he named him Eric, but he wasn’t going to call him that when he reached his climax. Richie could feel the name he wanted in the back of his throat.

His hand was tugging Eric’s head back by his roots. Judging by Eric’s loud, wanton moans and pushing against Richie he was enjoying himself. Richie snapped against him, fell on top of him, to the bed, in Eric deeper.

“Oh fuck.” Eric choked out. The friction of the semi-gross sheets must’ve felt like getting a hand-job from a mediocre silk god.

Richie kissed the shell of Eric’s ear. “You gonna cum baby?”

Eric pathetically whimpered his answer.

“Cum for me baby,” Richie whispered. He rutted against Eric slowly, dragging his cock in and out. Pushing Eric further up the bed until Eric’s hands were flat against the wall. He was pushing hard against Richie until his cock twitched and cum spilled over onto the sheet. Richie wasn’t far behind him, emptying into the condom.

Eric fell asleep after who knows how many rounds. The sun was coming up when Richie paid for the room. What? He wasn’t a jerk. He was a class fucking act. The classiest. He walked back to the bar to get his car. There was a little pep to his step. Like a guy who had just gotten laid by the love of his life. Then he remembered he screamed Eddie’s name whenever he promised himself he wouldn’t. His little pep disappeared, his shoulders sagged and his power-walk turned into a slug. Eric never asked why Richie called him by the wrong name. He probably didn’t care, but that just made Richie feel worse.

When he closed the car door Richie heaved a heavy sigh. He reached over to the glove department and pulled out a bottle of Excedrin and popped two in his mouth.

“Fuck.” Richie had no water to swallow the pills. “Fuck me.”

This was the beginning of an awful weekend.

Saturday night was back at the bar, a different one, but it was practically the same. Same atmosphere, music, shitty food, and drinks. Maybe even the bartender was from Friday’s bar. Fuck. Richie didn’t care when she served him the best Old Fashion of this life. How did he get here? He was gonna stay in and Netflix, probably play a game. He wasn’t going to visit a bar in hopes to find another Eddie, but then he appeared. He was sitting next to Richie, laughing at the show and tossed popcorn at Richie.

Richie shook his head, to get the scene out of his head and for a while, it worked. But then Eddie was in Richie’s lap, kissing up and down his neck and sucking on his ear.

“Nope, nope.” Richie launched himself from his sofa.

“What’s wrong Richie?” Eddie’s voice was sweet and teasing.

Richie’s eyes grew to the size of saucers, “This is not fucking happening. Nope. No fucking way.”

Oh right. That’s why he came here. To escape his Eddie ghost, but he followed him. He was sitting next to him, just swiveling in the chair next to him. Looking around like a child with another apple martini.

“I like this place. It has curly fries.” Eddie said, a little too chipper.

Richie’s hands scratched through his hair, he pushed at his temples and squeezed his eyes shut. He whispered, “fuck me” over and over until a hand gently tapped him on the shoulder.

Richie jumped and shoved the hand away, “yea, what, what is it?”

“Sorry man, you just looked like you need to…um…talk.” His voice was kind of nasally, like when Eddie would get started on a tangent.

“Oh, he’s cute. I wonder why he looks so familiar though.” Eddie said hotly into Richie's ear.

He was cute. Like when Eddie was in college cute. Kind of on the small side like he has to plan his meals or else he’ll starve. His eyes were big for his face and he had a strong nose. What the fuck was with this swipe to the side hairstyle? It should have died years ago, but I guess everyone wants to look like Captain America. This guy was not Captain America. He was all twigs and no bark.

Richie couldn’t help himself. His smirk was cocked to one side, his dark eyes half-lidded. He was already imagining on how he’d ruin this guy.

“Yea you know what. I could talk to someone.” Richie turned on the Tozier charm and the new guy fell in deep.

Talk to someone. Like anyone would stay after Richie told them about the homicidal clown that killed children every 27 years. Or the love of his life died because of the same clown, that was an alien. Who in their right mind would stay for that? Richie would have people running for the hills. Except maybe Eddie. Richie played with this guy’s heartstrings. Telling him the story about how the love of his life died a very tragic and painful death a few months ago.

He could hear the real-fake Eddie beside him, “oh sure. Just bank on my death you fucker. Like this idiot is going to fall for this bullshit.”

A second later and the new guy was practically crawling into Richie’s lap, peppering him in kisses and running his hands through his Irish Spring hair.

“Well fuck me,” Eddie said, his voice and body disappearing with every kiss.

How did Richie get from the bar to the new guy’s apartment? He will never know. Everything was haze. A hot, steamy haze. Was he complaining? Not exactly. Because here he was in a bed, that was not comfortable at all, while his new Eddie was riding him. Richie felt like an amateur, he didn’t know where to look. He was afraid if he looked around the room he would see the real-fake Eddie sitting in the corner watching them. He settled on closing his eyes and tilting his head back because sweet Jesus fucking Mary this guy knew how to ride.

When he felt himself getting closer his hands gripped the guy’s hips for dear life, not caring if he left bruises. The guy on top of him was digging his nails into his chest and fuck Richie loved it. He loved the pain. Loved that it was replacing the hollowness he felt.

“ ‘m gonna…cum.” The guy panted pathetically. His legs were gonna give out any moment, but Richie kept him upright and fucked into him. “Fuck! Right there baby!”

Richie felt that bundle of nerves every time he hit it and he kept hitting it without remorse. Cum spilled onto his stomach, making Richie’s skin hot and sticky. He chased his release, making the man above him cry out from overstimulation.

“Keep going.” He kept saying to Richie like a mantra, even after Richie’s cock twitched and filled him up. “Keep going.”

He kept going, flipping the man over on his back and plunged back in using his semen as a lubricant. He couldn’t let his new bedmate down. He let his mind wander, count the defined freckles on the man’s back—knowing that they remind him of Eddie’s. Were they in the same place or was Richie just imagining things again? Fuck, probably. That wasn’t going to stop Richie from destroying the man below him. He should have stopped and wonder why the last two guys he’s fucked are okay with mild rough sex, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth either. So he kept going.

Richie left before the other woke. He left a note, apologizing for the mess he may have left and that he had a wonderful night consoling his soul. He did not, however, leave his number. No attachments. None. That’s not what he wanted.

As soon as he got home he showered. It was Sunday, which meant he should sleep in and order pizza for his meals today. The game was going to be on, but he was too fucking tired from fucking the last two nights.

“Well then, I guess it’s just you and me tonight.”

“Fuck my life.” Richie hissed.

“Oh babe, you and I both know you’ve done enough fucking.” Eddie chuckled.

Richie poked his head out of the shower stall, rummaged for his glasses and wiped away the steam with his wet hands. Eddie was sitting cross-legged on the counter, smiling from ear to ear. He was being smug, the fucker.

“What do you want from me?” Richie was still in the shower, refusing to come out.

“Well for starters I want you to get tested for STDs. Who knows what that little slut has.” Eddie rolled his eyes. “You could have HIV.”

“Your mother has HIV.” Richie countered.

Eddie huffed unimpressed, “my mother is dead. Remember? Like me. Except she died from being a fat piece of shit. I died because you let me.”

Richie launched himself from the stall, almost slipping. “Fuck you! I did not!”

“I died saving you from that fucking clown!” Eddie laughed. “You were the dumb fuck that got caught in the lights! Your ass needed saving. Again!”

“No, no, no, no. No! Fuck you, this is not happening.” Richie covered his ears and closed his eyes tightly, “You’re not here. You’re not real. You’re gone. You’re gone.”

Richie slowly cracked one eye open and then the other one when Eddie wasn’t there. The water was still running, steam poured into the rest of the room. When he turned around he faced the same bloodied Eddie from the night before. Except for this time he was covered in dirt and grime, his head was caved in and bugs crawled over his body. Richie slipped and fell backward.

When he woke up the water was still going, except there was no steam. He groaned as he stood, his head felt like it was being split in two and he felt shaky all over. He reached into the shower stall and turned the water off. He didn’t notice at first, but everything was peacefully quiet. The city noises weren’t rustling at his windows. He couldn’t hear his neighbors or the birds. The pain he’s been filling is just gone.

Richie got dressed feeling like something was wrong, but he couldn’t put a pin on it. Why did his apartment look cleaner? Even though it’s always clean. Also, why was there white fog everywhere?

“You haven’t figured it out yet, have you?” Eddie’s voice came from the kitchen.

Not even thinking about it, Richie went towards him. There he was. Like he remembered. Before Bowers stabbed him in the face. Except Eddie didn’t look stressed or freaked out. He was wearing jeans, a shirt that had buttons that didn’t need buttons and his hair was perfectly done in the same style he’s had since he was a kid. He looked really, really good.

“Hey, dumb fuck. I asked if you’ve figured it out yet?” Eddie said.

Richie tilted his head, “figure what out?”

“Oh my god, you’re so fucking dumb.” Eddie ran his hands over his face. “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that, right?”

“Your mom's a fucking idiot.” Richie countered.

“Richie enough.” Eddie jumped off the counter and approached Richie. He reached up the few inches he had to and gripped Richie’s shoulders. “I need you to think. Use that fucking brain and think.”

“You’re not gonna turn into a zombie and eat my brains, are you?” Richie leaned back a little bit. Like he was going to run away the minute Eddie turned and tried to take a nibble from his face.

“No, oh my god. That doesn’t happen here.” Eddie shook his head.

“What doesn’t happen here? My apartment?” Richie glanced around his apartment. The white fog was still lingering and now the air tasted like his mom’s famous snickerdoodle cookies. Holy fuck, “Am I dead?”

Eddie’s head fell forward with a sigh, “you’re not a total idiot.”

Richie stepped out of Eddie’s hold, his hands went to his head. He was about to pull his hair out, “holy fuck I’m dead! Am I dead? Is this heaven? Why does heaven look like my apartment? Why? Why are you here? How did I die?”

Eddie placed a hand over Richie’s mouth, “please shut the fuck up. You’re being incredibly annoying.”

Richie ripped Eddie’s hand away. “I’m being annoying? I fucking died! I died. Oh my god, I’m dead.”

“Yes. You’re dead.” Eddie confirmed, “but look the fog is lifting.”

He was right, the fog was disappearing all around them. Richie’s apartment still looked too clean and shiny. “This isn’t such a bad place to spend the rest of our time together.”

Eddie walked over to the sofa and bounced on it. Richie closed and opened his eyes several times. Trying to make the dream end, but it wasn’t going. Away. Eddie was there. He looked like Eddie. He spoke like Eddie. He slouched like Eddie when no one was looking. He took a hit from his inhaler like Eddie.

“Wait…if you…we’re dead why do you have your inhaler?” Richie asked taking a quick seat next to Eddie. “Fuck is your mom here?” 

“No thank god.” Eddie chuckled, “this is out of habit and mom is, well, downstairs.”

Richie’s brow raised, “like downstairs, downstairs? Fire and brimstone downstairs?”

“Yea, my mom is in hell Richie.” Eddie replied, “I got to visit her as a form of torture for her. I told her all the things she did that wasn’t right and she just had to sit there and take it. It was great.”

“Holy fuck Eddie!” Richie pounced on Eddie, embracing him in the tightest, death grips of hugs. “You’re here! We’re here! We’re together!”

“Yeah man.” Eddie patted Richie’s back. “We have to talk about that.”

Eddie pushed Richie off of him, “I don’t want to sound like a jealous bitch, but what the fuck man? Why did you fuck all those guys that looked like me?”

Richie came right out and said, “because I missed you.”

“And you thought fucking those doppelganger lookin’ fuckers would make you miss me less?”

“It helped…a little.” Richie said sheepishly.

“And you’re hallucinations. What were those about? I don’t act like that.” Eddie slapped Richie in the shoulder.

“I can’t explain why you were like that. It’s just how my brain conjured you, I guess.”

“Conjured? Who are you, Buffy?” Eddie snipped.

“I would’ve made an excellent Buffy, Xander,” Richie said, cracking a smile. “So wait, how did I die?”

“I can’t tell you. You have to remember. Them the rules.” Eddie turned away from Richie and faced the television.

Richie sat there, concentrating. Replaying what happened until this point. He remembered he had to turn the shower off and the water was cold. Everything was cold like he didn’t have pumping blood. He lifted his head just as the light bulb flickered on.

“I fucking fell in the bathroom.” He slouched against the sofa and Eddie immediately started laughing. “Are you fucking kidding me? I died in the bathroom. That’s not cool at all.”

Eddie clapped his hands, “I know! At least I went out as a hero. You! You fucking fell in the bathroom like a little old lady!”

“It’s not funny man!” Richie complained, “I thought I would drink myself to death, not crack my head on the floor.”

Eddie was holding his sides now, he couldn’t stop laughing. “Wait until Stan gets here! You’re never gonna hear the end of it.”

“Stan is here?” Richie straightened himself out.

“Yea, he was waiting for me at my house,” Eddie said after he stopped laughing and caught his breath. He didn’t use his inhaler at all.

“Which house? The one where you and your mom lived or the one where your wife/mom lived?”

Eddie smacked Richie again, “shut the fuck up man.”

After a while of Richie and Eddie just sitting there, slouching against each other. “So we’re like really dead? Like dead, dead? No coming back to life like in the comics? This is it?”

Eddie grabbed Richie’s hand and squeezed it, “yea man. We’re done.”

“I’m fine with that.” Richie admitted. “I didn’t have a lot going for me on the Earthly plane.”

“Tsk look at you, catching onto the lingo.” Eddie cooed.

“Fuck you, man.” Richie squeezed his hand until Eddie called for a truce. “I just have one question.”

“What’s up?”

“How long until someone finds my body?” Richie asked glancing over at Eddie. They were quiet for a long time until they erupted in an earth-quaking laughter.


End file.
